


Moicy Flashfic: 500-word Single Parent/Nanny AU

by Asynca



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Moicy, flashfic, prompts, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asynca/pseuds/Asynca
Summary: “Moira/Mercy - Single Parent/Nanny AU” - Flashfic prompt on Tumblr





	Moicy Flashfic: 500-word Single Parent/Nanny AU

In her defence, Angela’s candle had been burning at both ends for days when she’d finally let her co-workers convince her to place the advert. The clincher was the thought of going home to little Isabelle and being too tired to give her the attention and enrichment she really needed at her age for optimum development,and then spending the rest of her life knowing she’d stifled her daughter’s opportunities because she couldn’t engage in meaningful play with her during key developmental windows. Isabelle didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t her fault her mother was working double-shifts at the hospital and had forgotten what ‘no’ sounded like. Isabelle needed someone to engage with her who could make her a priority. 

Angela needed to find her daughter a suitable nanny.

In an exhausted haze she placed the advert, glanced over the replies and only bothered to look into the candidates with the longest string of qualifications.

Interestingly, one of the candidates had ‘Dr’ in front of her name. Pouring her third coffee of the morning down her throat, Angela enlarged the screen to read the text with her tired eyes. “’ _Dr Moira O’Deorain’,_ ” it read. Amongst many, many other accolades, one of her qualifications was in ‘early developmental biology’ and ‘early developmental psychology’. Angela hardly read the letter of interest—the woman had written quite the introduction and Angela only needed to skim the first few paragraphs to decide she’d found her woman, so to speak. Anyone who could impress her was sure to be able to impress a 2-year old. She sent a short reply inviting her to meet Isabelle (Angela was too emotionally exhausted to bother with much else).

The reply from the candidate was instant. “ _Excellent_. _I’ve followed your career in nanotech for many years and read all of your papers. I very much look forward to meeting your exceptional daughter and demonstrating how I will work with her to develop her full potential so that she will exceed even your great achievements_.” Angela liked the sound of that. It was exactly what Isabelle needed. She set up an appointment to meet this Dr O’Deorain after her next shift.

That day, during her 7-minute lunch break in which she was stuffing a nutrient-balanced sandwich down her throat and checking her messages, she spent a few minutes googling this candidate.

There were a lot of papers about experimental biotics—something Angela had been quite interested in, but since the new government regulations it was impossible to find funding or investments for that field. Dr O’Deorain had made quite the headway in the field but since the money had dried up her research apparently had, too. _Pity_ , Angela thought, sipping her coffee. Some of her ideas were quite interesting. She was pleased by the prospect that her daughter would be exposed to such a great mind and hoped that Dr O’Deorain’s comments about helping her ‘achieve her full potential’ proved true.

That evening after Angela got home, she took a shower, made at least _some_ effort to put on a clean blouse (effort Isabelle seemed intent on sabotaging), and tried to make her house look at least somewhat presentable so that Dr O’Deorain didn’t think she lived in a complete pigsty.

When the door rang, Isabelle shrieked and surged off towards it at full speed. Angela caught her mid-way, lifted her onto a hip and went to answer to the door.

“Thanks for coming so late,” Angela began to say as she pulled the door open, “I know it’s far past most people’s…” The words died on her lips. “….most people’s…”

Dr O’Deorain was standing in the doorway in a full men’s suit, _towering_ over Angela. Short red hair swept back, heterochromatic eyes fixed on Angela, she gave Angela a lazy, knowing smile. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m not like most people, Dr Zeigler.” She had an accent. 

Angela had to make a concerted effort to close her jaw. She’d known Dr O’Deorain was a decorated doctor, she’d known Dr O’Deorain was a very experienced researcher—but nothing Angela had read had warned her that Dr O’Deorain was also horribly, _devastatingly_ attractive.


End file.
